A Fallen Compatriot
by Spiritus Scriptor
Summary: Kili is severely injured during the thunder battle in the Misty Mountains. Left alone with his thoughts, Fili, in his grief, blames Bilbo for all that has befallen them during their journey. Rated T to be safe.
1. Chapter 1

**This is** **my first Hobbit fanfic. I have seen the movie once. Usually, I have a good memory for the story lines in movies and which scene follows another, but please bear with me if I screw up.**

**Admittedly, this first chapter gets kinda fluffy, what with Fili's grief and all. But hopefully the following chapters won't be so...feely.**

**And that was a horrible pun.**

* * *

Kili's body lay broken on a rocky outcrop several hundred feet down from where the company stood. So close to the edge, he took a direct hit when the stone giant's fists came together. From behind Thorin, I watched in horror as my brother's body tumbled down the jagged cliff. Thorin, from the angle he stood, could not see that he had fallen.

"Kili!" he cried, reaching out as the gap that separated us narrowed. Reaching the other side, we were met with Bombur, Dwalin, and Nori righting themselves. "Where is Kili?" Thorin asked. I had rarely heard him sound panicked, but then, Kili and I were almost the only family my uncle had left.

"He's down there!" I pointed, leaning. Thorin yanked me back by the shoulder.

"For pity's sake, boy, I don't need you falling down there as well!" He shouted. "Kili! Kili, can you hear me?"

There was no response from below, and even from here I could see the blood pooling beneath his lifeless form. He was almost certainly dead, or about to be. My little brother. A scream of anguish threatened to tear from my throat, but I had to remain strong. I needed—we all did—to figure out how to get Kili back up here, if only to give him a decent burial. No. I must not think of that. The thunder battle was ending and I had to act fast.

"Has anyone got a rope?" I barked, clearing my mind of everything but the task at hand.

"I have," offered Bofur, drawing a length of rope from his pack. "Is it long enough?"

Taking it, I held one end and threw the thick coil down the side of the mountain. It looked to be just long enough for me to touch the ledge.

"Dori, Dwalin, hold the rope." I ordered. "I'm going to get him."

"No you're not," Thorin interrupted, pushing me back against the side of the mountain. "I cannot have you risking your neck. I'll fetch him."

With that, he climbed over the side as Dori and Dwalin held tight to the end of the rope. I watched as it slackened and began to sway. Perhaps it hadn't been long enough. Beside me, the hobbit leaned over curiously as Bofur grabbed the back of his collar.

"Oh, no, you don't, laddie. You've caused enough trouble today."

Looking sheepish, the small man straightened his jacket and turned to me. I could tell he wanted to say something, but didn't know what. He should have never come with us, no—_followed _us. I recalled him saying we needed to go back because he had forgotten his handkerchief. Such a man should not be on this journey, or _adventure_, as he so charmingly called it. To him it was all a game. To us, it was reclaiming our home.

Thorin returned, at long last, with Kili slung over one arm, blood seeping into his sleeve. His hands were bloody as well, though I wasn't sure if it was from Kili or the rope cutting into his skin. Bombur and Nori had located a cave, and shouted for us all to take cover. It looked as though we were going to be here for a while. Thorin lugged the body inside where a bed was already being prepared for him. Oin was rummaging in his kit, optimistically acting as though Kili might still be alive. The rest of us filed in and began unrolling bedding and setting up camp. Thankfully, someone had remembered wood for a fire, though it was now sodden and near useless. I leaned against the wall of the cave and dropped my pack to the ground, staring frozenly into the darkness. I had to keep face, for the sake of the others. Stoicism was valued amongst all dwarves, and if I broke down now they'd certainly think me weak. As a member of the Durin family, there were certain behaviors and expectations I had to uphold. It would reflect badly on my uncle if I were to break them.

But Kili…Gandalf, Oin and Dori were hovering at his bedside, and by the light of a single lantern were doing their best to heal him, administering medicine and bandaging him. Perhaps there was hope after all. He must still be alive if they were going to that trouble. Bofur and Bifur were at the far end of the cave, attempting to make something of the firewood. Ori had slunk off somewhere, presumably to work on his drawings. The rest were milling about with unpacking. Except Mr. Baggins, who was nowhere to be seen. The coward.

* * *

Hours later, most of us had dozed off, except me. I could not rest. A fire had finally been started, and Oin and Dori busied themselves with preparing all manner of compresses and infusions. Mr. Baggins had been located, sleeping far away from the others. Thorin paced the floor along the uneven rows of cots. At long last, Dori went over and tapped him on the shoulder, nodding in Kili's direction. Then he came to fetch me.

"We've done all we can, lad, but he may not last. I suggest you spend some time with him. He's awake now, but we gave him herbs to dull the pain…I don't think he understands much."

As I approached Kili's bedside, I was overwhelmed with the stench of more spice than an average kitchen held. A paste of some dreadful-smelling flower/mustard concoction was smeared across his chest above the bandages. His right arm was tightly bandaged and bound in a sling—broken. It would be a long time before he would shoot again. Blood had already seeped through the tight bandages around his chest and head. How I wished it were me instead of him. As his elder brother, I had always had an instinctive need to protect him, and I had failed.

"Fili…" Kili groaned quietly. It must have pained him greatly to speak at all. "Don't worry about me. I'm fine."

I drew a shuddering gasp and took his hand lightly. "I know. You should rest." I said, trying to maintain my composure for his benefit. It would frighten him if I cried. Blinking back tears, I was only barely aware of Thorin's hand on my shoulder.

"Come, Fili. Let him get some rest. Supper will be ready soon." He urged. I knew he didn't want anyone to see. Drawing me away, he looked at me solemnly. "Will you be all right?"

I drew a shaky breath. "I think I should be left alone." I hurried towards the entrance to the cave and managed to escape to what remained of the ledge before sinking to the ground and unleashing the tears I had contained for hours. Kili might die…it wasn't my fault, but still…he could die. While pondering this, I sobbed aloud…and that was my undoing. No sooner had I made a sound than our dear Master Hobbit poked his head out of the cave opening. Damned hobbits…their hearing must be very acute. Instantly, I blamed him for everything that had happened on this journey, though none of it was really his fault. I sniffed as quietly as possible and wiped my eyes. Then I looked up at him.

"You," I hissed.

* * *

**Dun dun dunn...**

**Looks like Bilbo's gonna get it. Don't get me wrong, I don't hate Bilbo. But sometimes it seems like he's everywhere he shouldn't be. **

**And yeah, Fili got a little snarky towards the end there, but give the poor guy a break. He feels helpless. :,(**

**Hope you enjoyed. Reviews are appreciated! :)**

**-S. S. **


	2. Chapter 2

**I was asked if I was going to keep to the movie storyline and have them be in the goblins' trap. After much deliberation, I decided not to. Having the company carry a half-dead Kili around while in battle probably wouldn't end well. So, the goblins, their king, and his chin-scrotum will not be making an appearance. Hope you're not too disappointed.**

* * *

Bilbo stepped gingerly out onto the still-damp rock. He kept his eyes on me, as though I were a dangerous wild animal.

"Me." he said.

"Yes, you." I tried to cut all emotion from my voice. "If it weren't for you, we wouldn't be in this position, and our only archer wouldn't have a broken arm. Do you understand that he may never be able to shoot again, if his arm doesn't heal properly? We can all wield swords and axes, but we may need to rely on his precision with a long-distance weapon if we are to take down a dragon. And now, thanks to you, that might not be possible. If you hadn't fallen…"

"I didn't endanger Kili." He said simply. "It was no one's fault. He was injured in the collision."

His matter-of-fact attitude unnerved me more than I cared to admit. "Yes, and he would have been on our side of the path, if Thorin hadn't had to shove past him to get to you. Why did you follow us?"

Bilbo gave an exasperated sigh and shrugged. "I'm tired of being a coward. What Gandalf said….it really put things in perspective. I thought I could make a difference, for once."

"Oh, you've made a difference, and you're a coward nonetheless." I spat. "When we left your house, it wasn't an invitation for you to follow. You should have stayed in your nice cozy hole where you belong, and left us to find a more accomplished burglar."

"An elf, perhaps?" he sniffed.

I lost what remained of my self-control and snatched him up by his collar. "You fool. No elf, not even in Rivendell, would help our cause. They were courteous enough to us, but only because Gandalf was there."

"Can you put me down, please?" he asked. I did as he requested. Gandalf and Thorin would kill me if anything happened to our burglar at my hands. "You have every reason to be upset. You and Kili are close, and you're worried. I understand."

"I don't think you do," I said. "I am Thorin's heir. There are certain codes of behavior I have to uphold, one of which is an indifference to pain, physical or otherwise."

"Oh," he muttered, looking down at his feet.

"You see? You don't understand. Why didn't you run along home when you still had the chance, after you forgot your little hankie?" I sneered. "Leave me be, won't you?" Pushing him aside, I strode back inside only to be met with Thorin's steely glare.

"Fili," his voice took on a warning tone. "Honor and dignity may be your main concern, but have you forgotten common courtesy?" His arms were crossed over his chest. "He meant well."

"I know," I sighed, running a hand through my hair. "But…would we even be in this predicament had he not come with us?"

"He does not belong here, it's true, but the road to Erebor is perilous," Thorin assured me. "We would have undoubtedly met with something."

"Something that would nearly kill Kili?"

He exhaled angrily. "I know you're upset, and you have every reason to be. But I must ask that you not take it out on your companions, regardless of their fortitude. He's stuck here now, and that's that. You nearly frightened him to death," he continued, gazing in Bilbo's direction. He was still standing at the opening, rubbing his throat uncomfortably. I must have been rougher with him then I intended. "Why don't you sit with your brother for a while? He's awake and I'm sure he'd be glad of the company."

A lantern at the far end of the cave illuminated Kili's bandaged form. As I came nearer I could see the rise and fall of his chest—a good sign. He tried to smile as I approached his bedside, but his smile ended as a wince.

"Hello, brother." he panted.

* * *

**Wow, this ended up being a really short chapter. It didn't look that short when I was writing it. Anyway...he's alive!**

**And Bilbo got throttled. But luckily dear Uncle Thorin was there to put his unruly nephew in his place. **

**Hooray! **

**Till next time, **

**S. S. Ghostwriter**


	3. Chapter 3

**Another short chapter...been distracted lately. I wonder if I should even continue this story.**

**And I keep forgetting disclaimers.**

**So disclaimers: I own nothing.**

* * *

"Kili," I breathed a sigh of relief, taking his bandaged left hand in my own, the right was completely enveloped by the sling. "How are you feeling?"

"I'm in some pain, but I'll be all right, if my arm heals. Oin says I'm lucky my ribs weren't crushed."

"Lucky you are," I said, sitting on the cold ground beside him. "I'm glad of that. And even so, you could still manage to take up a sword. You're not half bad with one."

"Thanks, Fili. That really makes me feel better." He rolled his eyes. He couldn't be in terrible form if he could do that much.

From across the cavern came the echo of cooking spoon against cauldron.

"Lads, the food's ready." called Bombur, ladling the thick stew into bowls. "Fili," he called to me. "Is Kili up to eating?"

"Yes!" Kili called back. "I'm starving!" I was glad to see him in such high spirits, though it didn't surprise me. He had always made quick recoveries in the past.

"Be right back," I said, joining the dinner line. Upon my return, I found Kili had sunk back on his pillow, clutching the bandages binding his chest. "Are you sure you'll be able to eat?"

"Should be," he replied. "Might need help getting up, though." Gently I picked him up and propped him against the cavern's wall with his pillow behind his head. "Ow, that smarts." he grunted.

Setting my bowl aside, I picked up his and handed him the spoon, which he tried to maneuver but dropped almost immediately.

"Well, this is embarrassing." He tried to smile, but I could see it still pained him. Bit by bit, I spooned soup into his mouth. By the time he was finished, mine had grown cold, which made it all the more unappetizing. Bombur may have loved to eat, but well…he wasn't the best cook.

I had dozed off when I felt Kili nudging me weakly. "Fili," he said urgently. "Fili, wake up."

"Huh?" I questioned drowsily.

"I don't suppose you could find a pail?" he gasped, with a pleading look.

"Are you going to be sick?" I asked.

"I don't know. I don't feel very well, though." He moaned. "Sorry I'm such a pain."

"Kili, you're not a pain. You're _in_ pain." I corrected, searching for a pail. Just then, Gloin passed by with a mug of ale. "Gloin," I called. "Do you know if we've got a pail? Kili is ill."

"I'll see what I can find, laddie. You stay strong for us, Kili. We need our archer." He smiled, before hurrying off. Kili only nodded weakly.

Gloin returned quickly with a large bucket. "Oin found this in his pack. Said he doesn't care if it gets dirty." No sooner had he dropped it at the bedside than Kili heaved, and I placed it beneath his chin.

"It hurts so much," he whispered between heaves. Tears formed in his eyes. "I'm so ashamed, Fili. I'm meant to be strong."

"You _are_ strong. What happened to you could have happened to any of us."

"Yes, but not like this…" he trailed, burying his head in the pail again. He coughed as I patted him lightly on the back. What now issued from his mouth was blood.

"Oh, no…" I muttered. I didn't know if he knew what was happening, but he sensed my fear. It was long into the night now, and everyone was asleep, even Nori, who was on night watch tonight. Without another sound, Kili collapsed on my shoulder. I shook him, and he just barely woke and glanced up at me. Then he lost consciousness. I laid my head on his chest and was relieved to hear his heart still beating, and his quiet, shallow breathing. Carefully, I laid him back down, took the bucket outside to dump it, and returned, quiet so as not to wake anyone. I arranged my bedding next to his and took his hand in mine again. If this was to be his last night alive, I'd like to think he knew I'd been there for him till the very end.

* * *

**D'aww...brotherly love at its cheesiest.**

** I feel like I should be making them more badass and less touchy/feely than I am...let me know what you think.**

**-S. S. **


	4. Chapter 4

**You're all going to hate me for this, I can already tell. But no flames, please. I promise there's a method to my madness. **

**-S. S.**

* * *

Kili's hand was cold as ice when I awoke in the grayish light of pre-dawn. I could not have been asleep for long, as I had had trouble keeping my concerns at bay long enough to rest. Re-lighting the lantern, I saw him clearly. His dark hair was drenched in sweat, plastered to his forehead and beginning to dry. His skin was a sickly grayish color, clammy to the touch, and his lips were slack. There was no response when I shook him, no answer when I called his name. He was dead.

I stared at his body in shock. My brother…my little brother…dead because I had been too timid to wake someone for help. Gandalf had turned back to Rivendell as soon as Kili had been settled…without his aid Kili never would have stood a chance to begin with. Perhaps it was inevitable.

Memories I thought I had forgotten came flooding back as I continued to stare dumbstruck at his corpse…Kili and I running wild through all of Ered Lurin…before we knew of the burdens we would have to bear…just children, not heirs to the throne. The way he used to smile at me cheekily, when he was imitating me in my weapons training. "Am I doing this right, Fee?" he would ask. "Am I good?"

_You're good, little brother_._ You've always been. _I didn't realize I was weeping until my tears fell on Kili's tunic, darkening the blue to black. For the second time in as many days, I felt an overwhelming shame in betraying my roots. Sniveling like a child did not suit a future king. I suppose I had felt some measure of sadness when my father died, but I _was_ a child then. The grief I felt now was beyond measure, manifesting as a physical pain which tore at my chest and made it difficult to breathe. Before I knew what happened, I had released an animalistic howl which woke everyone.

Several seconds of the company trying to figure out what was going on followed. They must have feared an orc raid, some of them grabbed for their weapons. But before I could make a move, they were huddled around Kili's bed and my shuddering body. Bofur and Ori held me back as Thorin and Oin made their way through the crowd.

"Get off me!" I shouted, shaking them off. "Let me be!" I had humiliated myself beyond measure, and I knew Thorin would have some choice words for me later.

I grabbed a lantern and stormed off through a tunnel deeper into the mountain, away from my companions who swarmed around Kili's body like birds of prey who had found a fresh carcass.

"Fili!" someone shouted after me. "Fili, where are you going?"

_Away, _I thought. _Away from you. _Away from things I didn't want to see or be a part of. As I plunged deeper into the darkness, tears coursing down my face, cursing myself, I realized I had lost my inner strength. I had always been there for Kili, but little had I known my strength came from my need to protect him. I had nothing left to protect now. Gasping for breath a long ways away from the party, I sat against the wall resting my fingers on my forehead, gathering my thoughts. My face grew hot at the memory of the scene I had just caused. Would it ever fade? How would I face them again, and why was I acting this way? It seemed as though nothing would ever be the same.

I had recovered, for the most part, when I heard footsteps approaching, and not soon after, Bilbo appeared, carrying a torch. He was bold enough to sit down beside me, considering what I'd done to him yesterday.

"Mr. Baggins," I greeted, my voice grating harshly. "How many times must I explain this? Why must you be everywhere you're not wanted?"

"Everyone is looking for you," he said.

"What for? I was only here to look after my brother, and now he's dead. So why now is it so urgent that they need me?" I snorted.

"I don't believe that was your only purpose," he suggested. "You're one of the best fighters we've got."

"I'm only here because my battle-crazy fool of a brother wanted to come on this expedition. I'll let you in on a little secret, Mr. Baggins. I'm more like you than you know."

"How so?" asked the hobbit.

"I would prefer to live in peace, away from confrontation. I'm nowhere near as contentious as anyone in our company, especially Thorin. And someday I have to take his place as king and defend Erebor…if Erebor is ever reclaimed." Sighing, I hung my head in embarrassment. "Kili would have made a better king than me, the cheeky git."

"You're not like me," he argued. "You're used to this…not having a home." I glared at him. "Sorry," he said. "I didn't mean…"

"You didn't have to say," I replied. "Let me guess—you think dwarves are uncouth, uneducated, dirty folk, am I right?"

"Well, I…I don't know much about dwarves, but that was my general impression, yes." He admitted. I was slighted by his low opinion, now that he'd actually voiced it. "You all did sort of…destroy my house."

I smirked at that, when I thought I would never smile again. "We like to have a good time. It's hard to do in a space so small. Besides, it was fun to annoy you a bit."

"That's your idea of fun, is it? Well…" he blustered for a moment, fumbling over his words in frustration. "Well." he finally conceded. "I suppose that's neither here nor there."

"You're right, it isn't." I said. "So, what is it that you wanted to tell me? Or are you just here to offer your condolences?" My heart sank again to think about it. We'd been having a half-decent conversation, too.

"No," he said plainly. And I found myself hating him once again.

* * *

***sniff* :'(**

**Poor Fili and Kili... **

**Still not sure if his reaction was appropriate or if it was a bit...much. He is a badass warrior, after all. **

**But then again, he did love his little brother. 3**

**And now I have thoroughly depressed myself. This was a hard chapter to write. **

**Reviews?**


	5. Chapter 5

**Well, then. I don't know what to say about this chapter. It's just kinda...there.**

**Or here.**

**Whatever. **

* * *

Well, then. No. Just no. The little bastard.

"Because Kili is still alive, but he's unconscious. We're taking him back to Rivendell. That's why Gandalf went back last night, to negotiate with the elven healers. He needs stronger medicine than what we can offer. I meant to tell you last night."

Instantly, I regretted treating him so harshly. A ray of hope shone through, but was instantly snuffed out when I remembered exactly who we'd be dealing with. "Suppose they refuse?" I sneered. "Elves are not known for their generosity towards dwarves, especially not fatally wounded ones. One less dwarf is a blessing to them."

"I can't believe…"

"Oh, believe it. I'm sure they wish we were wiped out completely." I sighed heavily. "I could not bear it if my brother died because of their conceit."

"But there is hope," he offered optimistically.

"Not much. Elves view us as inferior. I was only a child when the war was fought, when they refused to come to our aid. I did not understand then, and I don't fully understand now. But what I do know is that their grudge against us was strong enough to lead Erebor to ruin. They are a prideful lot who think of nothing and no one but themselves."

"There must be something…"

"Master Hobbit, you have spent your entire life in a pleasant realm. You do not know the cruelties of the world, or the pain. The agony of war, the sight of your fellow-men killed before your eyes…if you are to continue on with us, you must come to recognize hardship." My vision clouded, and I looked away. "I suppose we'd best be getting back."

"I suppose," he said, leading the way with the torch. My lantern had long since guttered out. Little did I know I was to face another trial.

* * *

Thorin was waiting for me in the cavern's opening, arms crossed and scowling. It was a look I knew all too well. He was furious.

"Mr. Baggins, go and pack. I need a word with my nephew," he ordered, his eyes never leaving me. Bilbo gladly fled to the safety of the party, far from the storm that awaited me. At least he had the good grace not to lecture me in front of everyone.

"Kili lives?" I asked, trying to sound hopeful.

"Yes. He lives. Which is why I must ask—what were you thinking, making such an ordeal for us? And what was that unholy noise? We thought we were under attack!"

I stumbled over my words searching for an excuse, like Bilbo had done not too long ago. How could I tell him I'd been off crying? He'd never understand. "I was…" I faltered, and decided to simply tell him the truth. "I let my emotions get the better of me. I though he was dead. I'm sorry, Uncle. I know it is no way for someone of my caliber to behave. But you know that Kili and I have always been close."

Thorin's face softened a bit. He knew, and he understood how close a family could be. He would never admit it, but his heart had never healed from the loss of his family. The only surviving kin he had was his sister Dis, my mother.

"I know you're worried, Fili, and that your love for your brother is strong. Never doubt me on that point…I've known my fair share of worry too. But you must learn to control your outbursts. You are wise, courageous, and responsible, but you are still young. Still vulnerable."

"I know, Uncle, and I'm sorry. I couldn't help it. The thought of losing him just…ate at me."

"At least you're honest," he observed. "Many a man wouldn't be." Thumping me on the shoulder, he told me to gather my things. "We've constructed a platform for Kili—he cannot wake. Oin tells me there appears to have been some damage to his organs. But he should be able to last until Rivendell. Our only hope now is that Gandalf has persuaded the healers."

I didn't have the heart to tell him that I had seen Kili coughing up blood. I was still too rattled to face his mighty temper.

When I got out into the dimly-lit cavern, I saw that Kili had been comfortably settled, bedding and all, on a makeshift stretcher comprised of what looked like thick branches, with leather straps woven to create a net. It wasn't until we were leaving that I noticed everyone was missing something—a belt, part of their armor—they had given it up for Kili's sake. No one mentioned anything to me, but I thanked them silently, praying for their protection and good health.

However good their intentions were, as we walked I could not shake from my mind the image of a funeral procession, Kili in a shroud being carried to his final resting place. Rivendell wasn't far…we hadn't put many miles behind us due to the storm. I only hoped he'd hold out until then.

* * *

**Hooray for epic fakeouts.**


	6. Chapter 6

**First of all, a shout out to the wonderful and slightly maddening Cockapoo, who PMed me enough to get me off my lazy ass and continue this story. I'm come to terms with the fact that our stories are equally tragic...maybe. **

**Also, I have another Hobbit story in the works, called Culture Shock. You should go check it out. *nudge nudge***

**Second of all: I hate this chapter. I really do. It's pure filler and serves no purpose whatsoever. It's mainly a pointless conversation between Fili and Arwen that was supposed to get me to the next point in the story, but ended up going nowhere. Hopefully the next chapter will be better, but I think I must have written this one on a caffeine high. That happens sometimes. **

**But I still can't think of anything better to do with the Rivendell scenario. I wanted a chapter where Fili is interacting with somebody other than Bilbo or Kili. And this is the best I can come up with...**

***cue Monty Python-style "GET ON WITH IT!"* (yes, I know that's the second reference today)**

**Oh, okay...**

* * *

Gandalf and Elrond met us at the gates of Rivendell, where a company of stewards were waiting to take my brother up to a chamber to be healed. The elves were apparently renowned for their skills in healing, but of course, they were magical beings. They possessed powers that we mere mortals could not begin to fathom.

Upon coming through the gates, Elrond greeted us in Elvish and then leaned down to me and whispered something else in Elvish. Why wouldn't he speak common when addressing us, knowing that none of us understood him? Perhaps it was because he needed to maintain a measure of superiority. I would have loved to scoff in his face, but remembered that we needed his help.

"All will be well," Gandalf translated for me, as he led me away from the group. "Thorin is concerned for you," he told me as we walked down the white marble passageway. "He doubts your strength. It would seem that it only comes from Kili." When had he spoken with Thorin? We'd only just arrived. I decided not to question it.

"In part, it does. But I have learned to get on alone just as well."

"I feel like you're not telling me the full truth, Master Dwarf."

I paused, feeling cornered. I disliked this subject immensely, and where it was going. "I was a timid child," I told him uneasily. "Until Kili came along. I felt I needed to protect him. So I learned to be strong."

"The reason for our concern, Fili, is that, even with the elves' help, Kili might not regain all his strength. His recovery will be a long one. There is no promise that he will be able to join you again on your journey. He may have to stay in Rivendell—or die. Do you think you can take on the strength of two?"

"Easily," I replied. "And I'd rather die than recruit an elf to help us reclaim our home."

"Fili!" Gandalf admonished, looking around. "Remember where you are! The strength I spoke of was not only physical. Would you be able to bear this burden if he could not join you?"

"Yes," I said, trying to sound much more sure of myself than I was. "But would the elves keep him here?"

"Elrond has promised," he assured me. "Elves do not break their promises." I hoped not.

I was shown to a chamber to rest. The elves were being oddly hospitable—as per Gandalf's request, I supposed. We were to join Elrond and his family for dinner. This more than unnerved me, as we'd be under close scrutiny and I was unfamiliar with their very detailed etiquette. I didn't want to look like a savage. Any displeasure from them could signal the end of our welcome.

After I had bathed, I found myself restless and bored. I was advised to stay in my chamber. Not everyone here was pleased by our arrival. It must have been a concern for the elves' safety and not ours. After all, we were very heavily armed and supposedly rogue.

There were books in the room, but I couldn't read Elvish. Not knowing what to do, I lay back on the bed and stared at the wall opposite. Then I noticed a fiddle in the corner. I had left my fiddle at home in Ered Luin, and I had not played in a long while anyway. I crossed the room to examine it and found it to be quite old, dusty, and out of tune. Plucking at the strings and finding they still held, I began to tune it and scratch out a simple, melancholy tune that Thorin had taught me when I was young.

Footsteps stopped outside the door, and I heard it slowly open. A young elf maiden stood in the doorway, looking curiously over at me. She was rather pretty, for an elf, with long brown hair and pale skin.

"I have not heard that fiddle played in years," she said.

I stopped playing immediately. "Sorry," I said, placing it on a chair. "I didn't realize it was an antique."

"No, it's all right. I'm glad to hear it again." She smiled. "What is your name?"

"Fili, miss." I replied with a bow.

"My name is Arwen," she said, with an odd gesture. "Daughter of Lord Elrond." Aule, help me. I was speaking with the king's daughter. "You're very polite." she added bluntly.

"Thank you. Would you mind telling me whose fiddle I was playing?"

"It was my grandfather's. He doesn't play anymore, of course. My father prefers the flute and harp. He considers the fiddle to be too rustic of an instrument."

"It has its merits."

Taking a step closer and examining me, she continued. "Dwarves are such a strange people. Why do you not remove your coats, or armor when not in battle?" She must have been very young, in mind at least, to be asking such straightforward questions.

"Well, here it might not be the best idea." I said. I was in only tunic and trousers, just having bathed, but my weapons, armor, coat, and boots were in the wardrobe. Two daggers were hidden in my coat, and four knives in my boots, two in each. "We are usually heavily armed, and it might frighten you to see how much we carry."

"I'm not frightened. May I see them?"

"I wish you wouldn't ask." I dreaded to think of my fate if she were injured. "They are very dangerous."

"Oh," she said. Her next question was, "How old are you?"

I chuckled a bit at that. "I'm eighty-two. And you?"

"Two hundred and seventy. I think in your years I'd be about ten, and in humans' I wouldn't even be born." That explained things. Really she was still a child. I guessed since elves were immortal, they had all the time in the world to mature. Maybe that was why she wasn't as wary of me as others were. She also had the advantage of being taller than me by over a foot.

"That's pretty exact," I remarked. "I thought you were young."

"Will you play for me?" she asked, gesturing towards the fiddle. I obliged, picking it up and beginning the same tune I'd been playing when she came in.

"That's nice," she said. "What is it?"

"An old Dwarvish folk tune," I said. "My uncle taught it to me. It reminds me of when times were better."

"Before Erebor fell?" She looked down at me. "I don't know much about dwarves or their history."

I decided, since she was being polite, I'd tell her a few things. "What would you like to know?"

"Well," she looked away briefly. "Is it true you drink the blood of your enemies to bolster your strength for battle?"

"What!" I tried not to laugh. "No, we don't. I bet it would taste awful!" I smiled. She continued her serious gaze.

"I've heard things…terrible things. By all rights I should be afraid of you." Suddenly, I didn't want to know what else she had been going to tell me. She caught on and said, "It's just about time for dinner."

* * *

**I know Arwen is probably older than that, but hey. Creative license exists for a reason.**

**I warned ya! Didn't I warn ya? **

**Hopefully your eyeballs aren't bleeding now...**

**Ok, that was kinda gross...**

**Review please! (Pretty please? With various ice cream toppings on top?)**


	7. Chapter 7

**Unfortunately, I have just realized an appallingly obvious similarity between my story and Race Against Time by Italian Hobbit. I saw some drawings on deviantart which were inspired by her story (which I hadn't read until recently) and the artwork kind of inspired the turn in my story a few chapters in...rather than have it be canon and having them haul unconscious Kili around, which is what I was originally going to do. So no, I'm not ripping off anybody's story. Or at least, not trying to.**

**As promised, if any of you are following my other story, here's an update (duh). It's amazing how much I can procrastinate when I really don't have the time.**

**I think I might need a beta...I don't know how to make my chapters longer without adding in a bunch of flowery wording and crap that isn't central to the point. **

**Thank you to all my readers, even if you don't review. But I wish you would! It feeds the creativity demon...beast...thing. :)**

**Oh, God, I'm turning into Pippin.**

* * *

Arwen was very gracious and accompanied me to dinner. She even introduced me properly to her father, Lord Elrond before I took my place with the rest of the company. Thankfully, she did not tell him about the fiddle, or what she'd learned about dwarves. I was glad to have an ally here, even a very young one.

"I have news of your brother," Elrond said to me. Obviously the fact that I had befriended his daughter left an impression on him. "There are…complications. The healers were wondering if you knew anything more of his condition. They wish to speak with you after the meal."

"Complications…" I wondered. Then I remembered. The blood. I had not told anyone about him coughing up blood. "With your permission, my lord, I'd best go now. It could save his life."

"You have my leave," he said, inclining his head in a slight bow. Calling for a steward, he instructed that I be led up to the healing chambers to confer with the healer in charge. I was led through winding corridors of white marble, up stairs, down passageways, until we had reached a large, semi-enclosed porch in a tower. The steward led me inside, and I all but dropped into a nearby chair at the sight of my brother.

A heap of bloody sheets and bandages were being removed from the bed. He was clean, at least, and bandaged. His arm was set more firmly in a better sling, but his complexion was greyish and sickly, and did not appear to be breathing. Without thinking, I hurried to his bedside. Up close, he looked worse. Eyes sunken in their sockets, cheekbones more visible than they had ever been. He hadn't been wasting away when we'd left with him on the stretcher.

"What have you done?" I demanded, a bit more harshly than I'd intended. "Why is he so thin?"

The dark-haired healer turned to me. "His tissues were all filling with blood. We had to drain them." he explained.

"His lungs…" I trailed. "His lungs were filling with blood too. He was coughing it up the night before we left…I thought he would die."

"You're his brother?" the elf asked.

"Yes. I'm Fili."

"I'm sorry you must go through this," he said. "But he may not survive. Even with what we can do, he's lost a lot of blood. It doesn't replenish as fast in dwarves. We've had to alter our treatments, making them less effective."

"Does Thorin know this?" I questioned, touching Kili's near-lifeless hand.

"Not to this extent. We were still in the process when he asked after him." the healer continued. "I intend to notify Thorin after dinner. I suggest you join him. Sitting here worrying won't do your brother any good."

Before I could protest, the steward had me by the arm and was steering me back down the hall. My patience was wearing thin. I would've liked to scream in his face, tell him that I'd rather be with Kili and starve than have to endure another second surrounded by people. There would undoubtedly be questions, and my mask of strength would not hold out much longer. I hated feeling so helpless, but there really was nothing I could do.

I guess I could have asked to be led back to my room, but my absence would be noticed and Thorin would unleash his wrath on me for annoying Kili and the healers with useless fretting and questions. I sat through dinner and the various salads without complaint, dodging curious glances and comments from the others.

* * *

A chance meeting with Elrond's twin sons, Elladan and Elrohir, afforded some distraction for a few hours. Elrohir challenged me to a game of chess while I plied them with questions of what exactly elf parents told their children about dwarves.

"According to Arwen, we drink our enemies' blood to bolster our strength and Mahal knows whatever else." I laughed forcibly. I knew I was setting myself up to be offended, but I didn't care. I'd rather this than think about what was going on upstairs. Besides, I was genuinely curious. And amused.

"Oh, some visitors from Mirkwood started that," explained Elladan offhandedly, hoping I'd drop the subject. I could tell he was uncomfortable, telling this to a dwarf. "It's really stupid, actually. King Whatsisname who rides that deer thing…"

"Thranduil," Elrohir interrupted. "And I think it's an elk."

"Thranduil and his elk," Elladan continued. "came calling, and his charming son decided to gather all the young ones around and tell them horrible tales of the savage dwarves of Erebor and how they got their just reward, fleeing to who knows where with their tails between their legs."

They were friendly enough, but at the mention of Thranduil—although I did get a laugh out of "King Whatsisname who rides that deer thing"—my hands clenched into fists. It was a good thing all my weapons were safely in a wardrobe upstairs, or the map directly behind Elrohir's head would have become a target for my throwing knives, with Mirkwood as the bull's eye.

"So," I pried, the corner of my mouth quirking up in a grin. "What are these horror stories, anyway?" They glanced uncomfortably at each other. "It's all right. I won't be offended. I'm just wondering how many of these I can disprove!"

"Well…." Elrohir dawdled. "If you're sure…."

"Dwarves eat the children of Men who wander into their midst," Elladan broke in gleefully. "The ones who are lucky are traded as slaves. They're cantankerous and stubborn and cheat the people they trade with."

"And they don't bathe," Elrohir added.

"Well, that's a lie," I said flippantly. "I bathed just today. And we're just like any other folk—we may not be quick to trust, but we judge people on character. If we think someone is being dishonest with us, why not return the favor?" I asked, feeling prankish, but stopping when I noticed their eyebrows raised in horror.

"And….?" Elladan continued.

"And we don't _eat _people, or sell them as slaves. Especially not children! Children are precious to us. There aren't many dwarf women, you see, and contrary to popular belief, we don't just spring out of holes in the ground!"

They snorted with laughter in reply, and Elrohir suggested we go up to see Kili because I was obviously just trying to distract myself. How could I tell them distraction was exactly what I needed, and reality that I feared?

* * *

**Yaaay! Hopefully this chapter was better than the last. And to think I finished writing it with a migraine...**

**Anyway, R&R and virtual brownies shall abound! ;)**

**-S. S. **


	8. Chapter 8

**Whew. Sorry it's been so long since my last update. AGAIN. I've barely had a minute to do anything that wasn't textbook and paper-writing related. But this affords me some sanity while I'm up to my eyeballs in school stuff. So yay :)**

**Big thanks to everyone who has been reading/following/reviewing thus far. I think I finally figured out which direction to take this story in. :)**

**Oh, and I finally noticed (I'm not one for detail, you see) that some of the characters' names have accents. So from now on I'll be adding them in. **

**May ye be warned, this chapter gets a bit harsh. Angst: it might be a buzzkill.**

**Ah, well. Onward!**

* * *

They brought me up to Kíli's room and trailed in behind me. The healers had gone and we were alone. At long last, I approached his bedside and took a closer look at him. He was still deathly pale, but upon searching for a pulse, I found a weak one. His heart still beat and his breathing was shallow, but he was alive. Mercifully. For now.

Unfortunately, my mind wandered to the ultimate worst, and I felt a lump forming in my throat.

"Leave me," I urged. "Please." They had been kind, but if an elf were to see a dwarf cry…I'd never hear the end of it.

They obeyed, and left me alone at Kíli's bedside. Just in time too, tears were clouding my vision and threatened to spill as they closed the door behind them.

And spill they did. A torrent of them. Damn it. _Come back to me, Kíli. You can't leave. I—we need you._ "Stay strong." I whispered to him. "You've never failed me before. So don't do it now."

I was finally alone—well and truly alone. Everyone else was asleep several floors below. It had been a long day, I thought, of trying to hold myself together for everyone's sake. Looking down at the mere shell of my brother, I couldn't have run away from my emotions if I wanted to, and I gave myself up to sobbing like a forlorn child yet again. I had cried more in the past few days than I had in years, I was sure, but I didn't care. No one could hear me now. I could no longer look at Kíli. With every glance, I saw just how much closer he was to death than life. Shoulders shaking, I sunk to the floor, burying my face in my hands. Why had this had to happen? That moment, I wished we were both home, that we had never come on this journey. At least Kíli would be safe.

Home…I'd probably never see it again.

_I was seven years old again, and Kíli, not quite two, trailed after me as I was on my way somewhere—probably just to wander through the woods as I usually did. _

"_Fíli!" his shrill cry echoed. "Fíliiiiii….! Where you goin'?" Kíli pattered up behind me, in his baby's tunic and leather booties. _

"_The woods. You can't come with me—you're still too small." _

_He plowed himself into my stomach, wrapping his arms tightly around me. "Wanna go too!" he wailed. "Take me wif!"_

"_Maybe in another year or two, but it's too dangerous for a little wee dwarf." I petted his hair that was barely long enough to braid. "Go help Mum. Maybe she'll give you a sweet."_

_Kíli dug a finger in his nose. "I bring you a sweet!" he cried, skittering back into the house. I chuckled and carried on my way. I had important things to do—trees to climb, rocks to skip, small animals to throw sticks at—and I didn't want him in my way. _

Now I would do anything to have him back and in my way. Lost in my reverie, I was only barely aware of something touching my hair, toying with the braid that ran down the back of my head. I reached up to feel—a hand. Wiping my tears, I looked up. Kíli was half-awake, and his hand had fallen off the bed onto my head, fingers tangling in my hair. Tucking his hand back under the covers, I strode to the far side of the room and faced the wall, pressing my knuckles into my eyes. This had to stop. I would not be made weak by a tragedy that was no one's fault. But it was my duty to protect him. I could not forget that.

Steeling myself, I drew a breath and pulled a chair up to his bedside. His head lolled in my direction and I could see tear tracks worming their way over the bridge of his nose and down the side of his face. My weak smile was returned with a grimace that would have been a sob, if he'd had the strength.

_Why?_ he mouthed

"I can't help it. I'm sorry." I sniffled.

_Don't cry,_ he mouthed slowly so I could understand. _I'll be fine_.

"We don't know that," I said. "That's why I'm worried." Gently, I took his hand. It was limp and cold, and he showed no signs of being able to move it. A shudder passed through his body as he wept. I had done it now. He'd just woken up to a blubbering, terrified elder brother. I _really _gave him hope.

"How are you?" I asked. He rubbed a hand weakly across his chest in reply. "In pain?"

He nodded and drew a sharp intake of breath. "Hurts," he panted. He sounded like he's had the wind knocked out of him. And it was no wonder. He'd fallen flat on his back. The pain must have taken a while to set in. "The healers say my back is bruised, and my arm may not heal. What will I do if I can't shoot?" he asked tearfully, beginning to panic.

"Don't think about that," I murmured, pushing his hair back from his face. "Just rest." I got up to leave, and he tugged my hand.

"Stay," he said.

So I did.

...

* * *

"Fíli," a voice thundered. "Fíli! Wake up!"

Thorin stood at the foot of the bed, looking irate. I had fallen asleep in the chair, holding Kíli's hand and resting my head on the edge of the bed.

"What are you doing up here?" he demanded.

My head immediately shot off the mattress as I tried to gather my thoughts. "I…I came to visit him last night, with Elladan and Elrohir. He wanted me to stay." I swallowed. "He's in great pain." Looking over at him, I saw that he was at the most peace he had been in days, but perhaps that was only because he was sleeping. A novice healer had come in the middle of the night to dose him with an opiate when he complained loudly of the pain in his delirium. He would sleep through the day now.

"We are leaving," Thorin announced. "In just a few hours. We must reach the Lonely Mountain before Durin's Day, and we've lost time backtracking as it is."

"What about Kíli?" I fumed, suddenly unable to control my temper. "Does reclaiming a pile of gold and Mahal knows what else—_shiny rocks_—mean more to you than your own _nephew_?"

I received a powerful blow to the face before I could react, the force of which sent me flying backwards into a table. Pressing the back of my hand to my stinging cheek, my fingers came away bloody. Thorin's ring bore the evidence of destruction, and the knuckles of his right hand were bloody as well.

"A pile of gold and shiny rocks? Is that all our home is to you?" he roared. Kíli twitched in his sleep but did not wake.

Standing up, I confronted him, nostrils flaring as I spoke. It was all I could do to maintain a level tone. "It may be your home, but it was never mine. I've never even seen it, and I have ceased to care if I ever do."

For a moment, he looked taken aback. But after an instant, his expression changed back to one of resolute anger. "So be it. I have tolerated you and your endless worries long enough. I thought you had the courage and strength deserving of this company. But you have failed me, Fíli. You who I hoped might one day ascend the throne when I had gone. But no longer. I renounce you as my heir, Fíli, son of Dís. Do what you will, but do not attempt to follow us or return to the Blue Mountains. You will not be welcome. I will see to it that everyone knows you for what you are. A coward…and a traitor."

With that, he swept out of the room without a backwards glance. I righted myself and swiped at my bloodied face. If valuing my brother's life above a collection of cold jewels and stone made me a traitor, then let him call me a traitor. But there was one thing I knew I never would be. And that was a coward.

* * *

**Poor Fili... :,(**

** Whatever will he do now?**

**I am a horrible person sometimes.**

**Let me know what you think via review! (About the chapter, I mean. Whether or not I'm a horrible person can be left to your imagination.)**


	9. Chapter 9

**I have come to accept that my chapters are short. I've noticed that they're kind of episodic and that I just end them where I think they need to be ended. You will rarely see a chapter from me that takes place in two different places. Plus, I have the tendency to stop writing when I start writing filler. In the words of my former English teacher. "I don't care if you stop short a page, if whatever comes after that is crap-tacular, just stop writing."**

**So that's how I roll :) **

**Thanks to all my reviewers, and a shout out to Mzzmarie, who tells me that I have an "incredible" grasp of Fili's voice. :)**

* * *

_Coward. Traitor._ For days afterwards, Thorin's words resounded in my ears as I paced the grounds of Rivendell. I no longer sat a constant vigil at Kíli's bedside; the healers had had enough of me. Thorin had a very short temper, and I credited his outburst to it. It gave me some comfort, knowing that someday he might forgive me. Might.

But it didn't matter now, the company was long gone. By now they were probably treading along the same mountain passes where we first met with misfortune. Possibly even farther, without two members to worry about. I wondered, who was doing the scouting now? Kíli and I, being the youngest with the keenest senses, had always taken those duties. Certainly they wouldn't be sending Bilbo out. If he met with any treachery, he'd faint on the spot. He'd never make it back to tell them.

All the same, it was no use pacing and fuming like I was. For the first time in my life, I felt completely useless. Even back home there was always something that needed doing, and I had usually been the one to do it. Mahal knows Kíli was always the lazy one. He never lifted a finger if he could help it.

I needed to get away, that much I knew. But where would I go? Thorin must have sent word by now that I must not be welcomed back to his halls. If by some chance I caught up with him and the others, they'd surely leave me behind. The company was completely loyal to him, and, as I had witnessed, while they were out in the wild his word would be law.

When I had finally had enough of pacing back and forth, I wandered down into the valley. I didn't want to leave, what if something were to happen to Kíli while I was gone? He would surely ask for me. He always did when he was unwell, ever since we were children. But I had to go, for my own sake.

I was only now aware of the somewhat precarious state I was in—dwarves are not natural climbers and the descent was steep. My boot skidded on a patch of moss and my leg went out from under me. I frantically clutched at the long grass to steady myself and only succeeded in tearing out a clump of earth. My nails dug into the wet soil as I clung to the hillside, panting. I had to act fast, the loose dirt would not hold my weight for long. There was a tree root not far away, but it proved to be just out of my reach. As soon as I let go my hold and grabbed for it, I slid further. Down the hill I rolled, end over end, landing flat on my back at the edge of a shallow stream.

I don't know what compelled me to do it, but in the next moment I found myself angrily splashing into the water in nothing but my trousers rolled up to my knees. The cold mountain water swirled around my shins and delivered a numbing shock that froze me to the core. It felt good. After all that had happened, a good uncomfortable shock was what I needed. My foot slid over a slick river rock. Picking it up, I hurled it as far as I could, followed by another. And another. Splashing, stomping, and throwing stones, I cursed out Thorin at the top of my lungs, never stopping to think anyone could hear me, giving no care that I looked like a madman. When I was spent and had screamed myself hoarse, I sank down and sat in the freezing water, knees drawn up to my chest, shivering. If I stayed like this for long I would develop hypothermia. Serve me right if I did. I just wanted to give up...to die.

I heard a noise behind me; someone cleared their throat. Turning, I saw Elladan standing at the bank of the stream, and Elrohir at the top of the hill. Amid my shouting, I had not heard them approach.

"Are you finished?" he asked, trying not to sound as shaken as I knew he was. "You gave everyone quite a scare."

"Yes. I…I'm sorry. I know that was not appropriate." I stood, dripping wet and half naked, and strode out of the water, pulling my clothes on before I was anywhere close to dry. I left my coat and boots off and carried them over my shoulder as I stumbled up the hill, with Elladan pushing me up from behind. As I reached the top, Elrohir took my hands as Elladan gave a final shove to my back, sending me sprawling on the grass.

"Steady, there," said Elrohir, taking my elbow, as if he were calming a horse. He gave me a smile that I'm sure was mean to be reassuring, but which I found so disparaging that I punched him in the stomach, causing him to double over and retch.

"Fíli!" Elladan cried. "What's gotten into you? You were just fine a few days ago!"

"A lot can change in a few days." I spat, literally—a gob of mud at his feet. "I need a pony," I grunted. "I'm leaving." If they had heard me, then so had Elrond's entire household. I could not bring myself to face them. What was I _doing_? It was Kíli who was always the hothead, not me.

"We only have horses," Elladan replied. "But you're welcome to borrow one, provided you return it."

"I will." I promised.

"Where will you go?" Elrohir coughed. "Why must you leave?"

"I don't know." I said. I neither knew where I was going or why I must leave. I only knew that I must. Besides, why would they want me here, after what I'd just done?

"We will get you provisions," Elladan offered. I noted he did not invite me back inside.

* * *

Half an hour later, I mounted my borrowed horse and rode off into darkness. No one saw me off. I sped the horse into a gallop, testing my balance. I was not used to horses, and feared I might fall. The saddle had been adjusted for my height, but even so, my feet barely rested in the stirrups.

Once I was sure of my balance, I sped the horse to a canter, and then a run. I planned to travel through the night, and I wanted to get as far as possible. I did not relish camping alone. It was when I thought of that that I also realized why I was running away. Thorin was right. I _was_ a coward. I was leaving the safety of Rivendell for fear of the elves' judgment. It might be forgivable for anyone else to have such an outburst as I had and still be forgiven. But I was a dwarf. And that was an entirely different matter.

To make matters worse, I had left Kíli all alone in that strange place. What would he think when he awoke the next morning and I did not come to visit him? I was miles away from him, heading West. My destination, I decided, was Bree. It was the only town I had seen between the Shire and Rivendell. From there, perhaps I might go to the coast, or even get passage to Valinor somehow, where no one knew me and I would not be dismissed as a traitor. Thorin had been right all along. He had trained me since I was a child, and knew my strengths and weaknesses better than even I did. So I would do what any coward would. I would run away. It was for the best.

I had planned to travel without stopping, but within a few hours I was nearly bursting from the need to relieve myself, and my not being able to sit the horse properly wasn't helping. So I stopped and at long last decided to set up a lonely camp, and ate a minimal amount of something the elves called "lembas" bread. Elladan had assured me one small bite would fill my stomach, which was just as well, considering I didn't feel like making a fire. Praying no night creatures would attack me for lack of one, I settled back against a boulder and went to sleep with my weapons drawn and one eye open.

* * *

**Has Fili finally cracked? I think he's too hard on himself sometimes. There's only so much that a young prince can handle.**

**Or at least that's how I see him. He is Thorin's heir, and after so many years of discipline and responsibility, he would suddenly find himself without purpose. I think that would make anybody go nuts and lash out.**

**I'm trying to write him as though he's aware that he's being a chicken, and hates himself for it, because he knows how he should be acting. **

**Please review! It still feeds the creativity DemonBeastThing! Yes, that is how I am referring to it from now on. :)**

**Teehee. **


	10. Chapter 10

**Long chapter this time. I don't know what happened with my last chapter. It shows up as having been posted, but the lack of reviews and the fact that I never got an email notification make me think that no one saw it. **

**Or it could be that this story sucks. I showed it to a friend of mine who also writes fan fiction and that is verbatim what she said to me. Apparently it's because of my lack of a plot. **

**So I'll try to get this story back on track rather than have Fili just hanging out in Rivendell. This should be the last chapter he's there. I'll get the ball rolling in the next one. **

* * *

I never made it to Bree. The next morning when I woke up, my head throbbed with a fierce ache as did every muscle and joint in my body as well as my throat. I had made myself ill by sleeping in the cold in wet clothes. I _knew_ I should have built a fire.

What's more, when I reached for my pack I found most of the food and my water container had been stolen. I had been worried about wild animals attacking, when really I should have worried about thieves. I could not continue my journey without water, the ride last night had been exhausting enough and I had ben parched by the time I stopped. There was a creek somewhere near here, I knew, for I had led my horse to it last night.

Head throbbing, I led the horse by the reins and staggered about looking for water. Eventually I found it, and, rather than being sensible and drinking from my hand, I submerged my head. At the very least, it woke me up, but it did nothing for my condition. As soon as I removed my face from the water, I sneezed eight times in a row and coughed up a clot of mucus nearly as big as my fist. Infection had already set in. No wonder I was miserable. I could hardly breathe, a terrible, ragged sound it was when I tried.

Maybe I would rest awhile longer, I thought, as I led the horse back up the slope. I had barely reached the top when I sank to my knees, exhausted, and was enveloped in darkness. I neither saw nor heard anything more for quite some time.

* * *

"Here! He's over here!" a familiar voice called, then shouted something in a language I could not understand.

I cracked my eyes open painfully to see two blurry forms on horseback standing over me.

"Please…leave me…" I panted. "I have nothing of value. No money…no food…nothing."

"But you have a horse," one of them said.

"Please…I'm on my way to Bree. Let me alone. I have nothing you want."

"That is not entirely true," said the other.

It was the last thing they said before I was hoisted up under the arms into the saddle and tied there, with my hands bound at the wrists. The reins were taken from me as my head slumped against the horse's mane. And I lost consciousness again.

I awoke in a bed, clean, dry, and warm. It still pained me to breathe, but at least my nose had cleared a bit. Someone was in the room with me. I could sense them.

"Where am I?" I asked blearily. "What happened?"

"You gave us a fright, Fíli. We thought you were done for! The way you prattled on and on about how you didn't have any money, someone had already stolen your food, please leave you alone…"

"_Elrohir_?" I propped myself up on my elbows as best I could and blinked the crust from my eyes. "How did I get back, and why did you _tie_ me to the horse?" So many words sparked a coughing fit, and I hacked until my chest ached.

"Father bade us follow you. Careful," he warned. "You've got an awful catarrh that could turn into consumption or pneumonia if you're not careful."

"Don't _scare_ the boy," said his brother, entering the room. "It's just a bad cold. You'll be over it soon enough."

"You did burn with fever, though." countered the other. "Which is why we've been instructed to give you this." He handed me a goblet full of thick amber fluid. Honey, I thought, or some sort of spirit. I took it from him and drank it in one go, and almost retched. It was bitter enough to make my tongue curl. Bile rose in my throat as I gagged and wheezed.

"What was _that_?" I managed to choke.

"Cough linctus," he said simply. "We've been pouring it down your throat for two days."

"Ugh," I gagged. "What's it made of?"

"Erm…hard to say. It's mixed according to the patient's needs. I can tell you that this one contains wormwood."

Well, that explained why the room was spinning and the walls bled purple. My head sank back on the pillow as my vision grew fuzzy. The twins retreated, and I was left alone. I was in Rivendell…I had been here two days…I was ill…but there was another reason I was here, I knew it. But what was it?

My eyesight faded and I fell asleep with a name on the tip of my tongue.

_I stood at the brink of a deep, dark chasm. Voices wailed up from its depths, calling my name. Weakling, they said. Not of our kind. You're not welcome here. Backing away, I was met with a moving, solid, almost breathing wall of—something. No, it __**was **__breathing. A great, massive dragon sat atop a pile of gold, asleep, tendrils of smoke curling from its nostrils. I backed away quickly, too quickly, for it felt my presence and woke up, leering at me and revealing two rows of glittering, sharp teeth each longer than my arm. Lowering its head to my level, it opened its mouth to devour me. I closed my eyes and awaited the inevitable, as I was unarmed. But to my surprise, it spoke. _

"_Try your hand at besting me, Dwarf." It said. _

_Then it opened its mouth, and with a flick of its tongue, swallowed me whole._

* * *

I awoke drenched in sweat, panting. My fever seemed to have broken, and the evidence was soaked into the sheets. A perfect outline of my sweaty form lay in a tortured, contorted position on the bed linens. It was to my great embarrassment to discover that I had also urinated on myself—the fine sleep tunic I had been lent was stained yellow. Shamefully, I pulled the thick quilt up to my chin and burrowed into sweat and filth, wishing I could just disappear.

It could have been minutes or hours that had passed before someone entered the room again. I neither knew nor cared. With the covers drawn over my head, I feigned sleep. Or death.

"Both of them are ill now," said a man's voice. "Your brothers tell me they found him unconscious with fever halfway to Bree. I would not advise you to enter, Lady. He is not in a good state." Indeed I wasn't. And who was this Lady the healer spoke to?

I didn't have to wait long to find out. She drew near my bed and pulled back the covers from my face.

"Hello, Fíli." said Arwen. Damn. She knew I wasn't asleep. I merely groaned in reply and pulled the quilt back over my head.

"Don't pester him so," the healer warned her. "They say he has become violent."

From under my hiding place, I scoffed. What did he know of violence? My actions were merely those of frustration. But I had forgotten, elves were such perfect, _faultless_ beings. They _never _lost their tempers. If Kíli wasn't incapacitated in a sick room of his own, I would have jumped out of bed and left, not caring whether or not I was sick. Let the elements have me and finish me off. It would certainly be a less cruel fate than I had received from my own kin.

"Please, leave us." she argued. "I think I may be able to get him to speak."

_Like a common prisoner,_ I thought. Footsteps retreated, and no sooner than they had, Arwen drew the covers from me again.

"I know you tried to leave," she said.

"Who doesn't?" I sneered. "The entire household knows." Something like shock passed across her face, and I felt sheepish. "I'm sorry. I was stupid."

She sat down next to me and laid a hand on my shoulder. "I want to help you. You planned on following them?"

I rolled onto my back and propped myself up on my elbows. "Actually," I said, "I was headed in the opposite direction. Your brothers didn't tell you?"

"No, but the healer did." she replied. "But it's good that you're remembering things. What were you going to do west?"

I crossed my arms over my chest and looked down at my lap. I couldn't meet her gaze. "I had the foolish idea that I would go to the coast, perhaps get passage to Valinor."

Acting on what I took to be impulse, she gripped my hand. "The Undying Lands? Why would you want to go there?"

Sighing heavily, I tightened my arms, as if my own grasp could protect me from what I was about to admit. "Because I don't want to die," I admitted. "Not…not like that. In battle, surrounded by blood and enemies and my fallen kin." I dared not name the enemy I feared most. My head dropped into my hands almost by its own accord. "I'm frightened. I'm a coward."

"You faced your uncle's anger to be with your brother and give him comfort," she said. "You are no coward. But if you truly feel that way, why don't you stay in Rivendell?" she inquired, focusing her gaze on me. "It is peaceful here."

"I left in part because I disrupted that peace. I was ashamed. Who has ever heard of a dwarf among elves?"

"But you _are_ welcome here." she stated simply.

"Besides," I sighed. "It's not just that. It's a matter of pride. I'm an heir of Durin, for Mahal's sake! I've already ruined enough. Thorin has all but disowned me. Perhaps if I were to follow him, I could earn his respect again."

"Whatever you decide," she responded with a graceful shrug. "I'm willing to assist you should you need it. But regardless of if you leave or stay, you _must _heal first."

Such maddening creatures were elves. Their answers were always ambiguous.

With that, she got up and left. After some thought, I was resolved in what I would do—what I must do, if I were to ever respect myself again.

I sank back onto the pillows with a plan in mind, but no matter how hard I tried, sleep would not come. I felt a troubling suspicion that I would never belong anywhere again.

* * *

**Hooray for chapters longer than 800 words. **

**Please review or PM. I really want to know if this story is bad so I can fix it. :(**

**-S. S. **


	11. Chapter 11

**I'm on an updating spree with pretty much all my stories. Hooray for a weekend with nothing pressing to do!**

**Oh, and I'm finally moving on with the story. Onward, to adventure!**

* * *

Nearly a week later I was deemed well enough to be out of bed for more than a few hours a day. I took meals with Elrond and his family and tried to pretend like nothing was wrong. Only Arwen and I knew of my plans to depart. I hadn't even told Kili. I suppose it was for the best. If I did, he might try to follow me.

The twins, certainly, would be sorry to learn that I had gone when the time came. They found me a worthy adversary at chess and fencing. But it seemed to me that I was nothing more than an amusement to them. I may have been wrong, of course, but on the whole they treated me as a novelty more than a friend.

I would leave in two days. Arwen had been busy securing supplies for me, and I owed her more than enough already. Somehow, she had managed to get a pack together for me and find a pony all with the utmost secrecy.

Kili was doing remarkably well. He was able to sit up and talk again, and was even working on walking. He complained of some numbness in his right leg, and the healers had provided him with a walking stick, which he, of course, refused to use. He was able to eat again without regurgitating anything, and I would occasionally take meals with him and tried to avoid his unceasing questions as to where the rest of the company had gone, and why I had stayed behind. The only thing I would tell him was that I had stayed to make sure he was all right.

"You don't need to worry about me, brother." he said one day. "I'm as fit as…" he tried to laugh but broke off into a coughing fit, which were still regular occurrences. The bruises on his back were still healing, and it gave him pain to laugh. That was the only thing I missed, his laughter. But on the whole he was doing much better than he had at the start, so I never mentioned it.

On my last night in Rivendell, Elladan, Elrohir, and I were at a game of chess. This had become a nightly occurrence, and I almost regretted leaving the peace and comfort of Elrond's house for the arduous peril that lay ahead. But I must not forget who I was, and what my purpose was. I was a warrior, after all, and my strategies lay better employed in fighting than in a board game.

"Something wrong, Fili?" asked Elladan. I hadn't noticed my grip on the knight I was holding had turned to a clench.

"Just thinking," I said.

"Fretting seems more like it," he replied. "You can't dwell on misfortune forever. Sooner or later, you'll find your way, even if it's not the one you expected." Maybe he was right. Maybe I was taking the foolish course, trying to prove myself. There was always the chance I'd never be forgiven. And then what? Where would I go from there?

* * *

As elves do not sleep, I had to wait a considerable length after everyone had retired for the evening in leisure activities before I could make my escape. Arwen had said she would come for me when the coast was relatively clear. I busied myself with packing up my gear until then. I had a few more things to carry than what I had come with—Arwen had been generous and Elrond had gifted me with the fiddle I had played upon my arrival. He told me he believed it was in good hands and had brought him joy to hear it played again so beautifully.

Tucking everything neatly into my pack, I donned my outer coat and tucked my daggers and throwing axes into their respective pockets. There was nothing left to do now but wait.

I heard footsteps approaching, but it wasn't Arwen's light stride nor anyone else's I could recognize. This was a slow, dragging sound, like someone trying to walk with a gimp leg.

Kili appeared in my doorway, sweating with the exertion of dragging himself down two flights of stairs and a corridor, something he hadn't been able to manage before.

"Fili, something's wrong," he blurted out, leaning on the doorframe. "I can sense it." Then he looked up at me. "What are you…"

"Shh!" I hushed. "No one must know!"

"Know what?" he asked, as Arwen appeared beside him.

"Are you ready?" she asked. Then she caught sight of Kili. "Oh, dear…"

"What?" he asked, looking between the two of us for an explanation. "What's going on?"

"I'm leaving, Kili. I'm going after the company." I whispered. "Keep your voice down."

"Why? Why must this be done in secrecy?"

"No one wishes me to leave. Arwen agreed to help. We'd be getting her in trouble if anyone knew she was assisting me."

"What happened?"

Leading him into the room, I sat him down carefully in a chair. "Thorin...Thorin disowned me. That's why I'm still here. We had an argument over your fate, and I said I'd rather stay with you than go traipsing after a dragon and a pile of gold."

He looked appalled and hurt at that. "So why now are you leaving and going after them?"

I sighed. "It's what I must do."

"Why?" There was an odd squeak in his voice, he was on the verge of tears. Shaking his head, he repeated his question. "Why? You said you wanted to stay to look after me! Does Erebor really mean that much to you?" A tear slid down his cheek which Arwen politely pretended not to see.

"Kili, I know this is hard for you to understand. But you're not in line for the throne. I am. If something happens to Thorin in battle or against Smaug, it is my duty to take over. Regardless of what he said."

"And you're just so special for that," he sneered. "You talk about Thorin when _you're_ the one valuing a forgotten kingdom above your own_ brother_!" A sob overtook him, and he pressed his fingers into his eyes. It wasn't like him to be this fragile.

"I'm sorry," I said helplessly. "I can't stay here anymore." My vision blurred suddenly. I hated seeing him like this.

Arwen had retreated into the corridor, probably more than a little embarrassed to be witnessing this.

"Kili," I sighed heavily. "I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to do this. You'll be safe here, I promise. I'll have Arwen tell her brothers to look after you. You'll like them. It's thanks to them I'm now one of the best chess players in all of Middle Earth."

"Chess," he scoffed. "What about sparring? What about riding? What about _you_? They are not my brothers. _You_ are, and you're the only one I've got." He lifted his head to face me with a completely wounded look.

"I'm sorry," I repeated, at a loss for any other words. Then I turned and walked out the door. The last I saw of my brother was him still slumped in the chair, looking miserable, defeated, and betrayed.

Out in the stables, I asked Arwen to leave me for a moment. I could hide my feelings no longer, and spent a few moments shedding tears while uselessly trying to fight them back. I had betrayed and disappointed Kili, the only reason I had wanted to stay—the only reason I wasn't hundreds of miles ahead with the company by now.

But my mind was made up. I had said my goodbyes, for what they were worth, and I was going. Maybe I'd return someday, and Kili might forgive me. I could not think about that now. I had a journey to start, hopefully before daybreak at this rate.

"Are you ready?" asked Arwen, returning with an extra blanket to shove in my pack.

"Yes." I said, taking her hand. She looked taken aback for a moment, then relaxed. "Thank you for your kindness. I will never forget what you have done for me. And my brother."

She opened the stable doors and I led the pony into a gallop across the steep mountainous terrain. As I was crossing the field that led into the Misty Mountains, I heard a voice calling me.

"Fili! Filiiiiiiii!" Kili called, loping as fast as he could over the uneven ground and long grass, leaning heavily on his stick. He had his pack with him, and all his weapons, though his arm was still in a sling.

I turned the pony around and trotted it in his direction. "What are you doing out here? Get back inside!"

He shook his head. "I'm coming with you." he said defiantly. It was pointless to argue. If I refused, he would follow me anyway. I dismounted and carefully shoved him into the saddle in front of me. And then we were on our way.

We tore through the narrow mountain paths as fast as safety would allow. I intended to lose no time in catching up with the company. It had been nearly three weeks since their departure, and they were surely through the mountains by now, provided they hadn't been captured by goblins. Soon the mountain pass grew so constricted that I had to dismount and lead the frightened pony by the reins, step by step, while Kili clung to the saddle with his good hand for dear life.

"Easy now," I soothed, patting the horse's muzzle to ease it along. I could see a wider path in the distance. We only had to get as far as the next peak and we'd be in the clear. I hoped we wouldn't have any run-ins with goblins; we traveled the highest path and, as far as I knew, goblins had their traps where travelers were more likely to go in the lower regions of the mountains. The air was thinner up here, and Kili and I struggled to breathe. I was growing more and more lightheaded, which was unusual for me. I had been born and raised in the mountains of Ered Luin without ever a problem.

I had been too eager to follow the company. Had I known what would transpire that night, I would have given anything to be safely back in Rivendell.

* * *

**Yup. He left Rivendell with stubborn little brother Kili in tow, who, may I reiterate, still has a broken arm and can't really walk that well. **

**Will this spell disaster for the two out in the wilderness? **

**Please review!**


	12. Chapter 12

**Hello, my lovely readers. I have been on a roll with my writing and finished another chapter...in two days, which is a very rare thing now. **

**I'm quite pleased with this chapter, as the story picks up and THINGS ACTUALLY HAPPEN. *WOOHOO***

**I'm getting somewhere! Somewhere quite strange, but somewhere nonetheless. **

* * *

Thankfully, it was not raining when we reached the highest peaks of the Misty Mountains. However, I had no map, and the rocky terrain was unfamiliar territory. I merely went where the company had gone before, gauging by sight where we were, all the while cursing myself for not thinking to bring a map. Arwen would have gotten me one, I was sure, but I was also relatively certain that none could be found in Rivendell that weren't in Elvish. Either way, I'd be lost. The pony at least was surefooted enough, being used to mountain paths. It was probably a merchant's animal, used to carry packs instead of people.

Kili was slumped in the saddle in front of me, exhausted from the chase. My mind raced with worry. If we encountered something, he'd never be able to fight. I could not defend us both, not against a swarm of goblins.

We stopped when it grew dark enough that I could no longer clearly see. We found a cave smaller and farther ahead than we had gotten with the company. This was good, perhaps at this rate we'd be out of the mountains by midday tomorrow.

Securing the pony, I withdrew a loaf of the lembas Arwen had given me and gave a piece to Kili.

"This should keep us sustained for awhile. I'm told a bite will keep a grown man full for a day. But we must be careful with this, Kili. We have to save as much food as we can for our journey through the Mirkwood."

"Mhm," he muttered, taking a mouthful and rewrapping it in the leaves. "Wait, we're going through _Mirkwood? _Thranduil's territory?"

"We must reach Erebor by Durin's day, remember? Going around it through the Grey Mountains would take too much time." I said. Kili gave an exasperated groan.

"Kili," I warned. "_You're_ the one who followed _me_. So now you must do as I say."

He rolled his eyes. "Yes, Mum."

"You're still healing. You cannot afford to be rash. Do you understand?" I didn't mean to be so harsh with him, but I needed to make him see my point.

"You sound like Thorin," he grumbled.

"Good. Maybe you'll listen to me, then."

He tried to recline into a more comfortable position against his pack, which he was using for a pillow. "What happened to you, Fee?" he sighed. "What are you trying to prove? Even if we make it to Erebor, there's no guarantee Thorin will welcome you back."

"I have to try. It's a matter of pride, Kili. Why can't you understand?"

His eyes widened with fright as he struggled into a sitting position. "Fili…you're losing your grip. This foolish _quest _is consuming you. You've…you've got the sickness."

"The _what_?"

"The gold sickness." He stared at me intently. After a moment his gaze became unnerving.

"Don't be ridiculous." I scoffed. But his words stayed with me long into the night, and after he had drifted off to sleep, I lay awake thinking. It wasn't gold sickness, but I was plagued by something. I was becoming obsessed with the desire to prove my worth. And I was the last to realize it.

* * *

Sometime in the middle of the night, I was awakened by a scampering noise and unintelligible muttering. On reflex I drew a dagger and struck flint into my lantern to have a look around. I was never too careful.

What I saw was a scrawny creature crouched on my brother's chest with a crudely sharpened stone held to his throat. Instantly I lunged at it, knocking it back and holding it to the ground beneath my boot.

Pointing my dagger at it, I demanded, "Who are you? What do you want with my brother? Speak, or I swear by the name of Durin, I'll cut you apart."

It held up its filthy hands in a gesture of supplication and gazed at me with large, glowing eyes. "We wantses a tasty meal, is all we wantses! We is tired of fishes, and there hasn't been any nice, fresh goblin meat for so long! Yes, so long!"

"You will not make a meal out of him, or me. Be on your way and I'll give you no further trouble." I released him and he scrabbled away, still staring at me with those unsettling eyes.

"We has seen travelers, yes we has, precious!" he gloated, his voice changing to a menacing tone. "Travelers like you!"

I approached him, dagger still drawn. "You have seen travelers? Which way were they going?"

It crept to the cave opening on all fours and pointed. "That way!" he said eagerly. The same direction we were heading. In the moonlight, I got a better look at the thing I was talking to. He—it—was nothing I had ever seen before, hunchbacked, bald, with ashen skin and enormous, bulbous eyes. It wore nothing but a filthy loincloth and dragged its knuckles when it moved. It had pointed ears, and, had it been standing, might have been roughly the height of a hobbit. Were there cave-dwelling hobbits? I had no time to question it.

"How long ago was this?" I demanded. "How many were there?"

"We doesn't know, precious, we doesn't know time down there in the dark. But…" he began pounding his head with his fists. Suddenly, he had an epiphany. His eyes widened even more "Oh! We knows! There was a Bagginses, yes, there was! A tasty Bagginses, who wanted riddles for a way out! Shut up! Shut up!" This was followed by a strange gagging sound.

"Baggins?" I yanked him up by the scruff of the neck and held the tip of my dagger to his scrawny throat. "What of this Baggins?"

"He lost his buttonses, yes. I hases them!" He drew out a handful of brass buttons from what I hoped was a pocket in his loincloth.

"Give those to me!" I growled, and swiped them from his hand, instantly wishing I hadn't. They were oddly…warm. I quickly pocketed them and regained my hold on his windpipe. "Baggins! What happened to him?" I was only now aware that Kili was awake and staring at the scene unfolding before him in disbelief.

"He got away, the tricksy…little…hobbitses! Shut up, don't answer! Got away and tried to steal the precious, yes he did!" Again, he coughed. "But we took it back, yes."

"The…precious?" I questioned. He fiddled around in his pocket again, turning something over in his emaciated fingers.

"Don't show him, idiot!" barked his menacing voice. It was almost as if he had two personalities in one body. His other side took over and withdrew a shining band from his pocket. A ring that looked remarkably like Thorin's. I looked out of the cave as if I saw something there. He looked too, and snatched the ring from his hand before he could react. He went wild and threw himself upon me, biting my hands with his sharp teeth.

"Get off me, you lunatic!" I yelled. "How dare you steal from the Company!" With a single slice, the blade of my dagger cut across the thin skin of his throat. I couldn't have him running back into the mountains to warn anyone—or anything—else of intruders.

For an instant, there was an odd burning sensation in my fingers, where I held the ring. It seemed heavier than it should be. A deep, growling voice called my name, but no one was around besides Kili. I decided it was the wind, pocketed the ring, and went to saddle the pony.

"Kili, get up. We've got to leave. Something will have heard that."

* * *

As it was still dark, I had more than enough trouble navigating. I did not press the pony to gallop, we were still high up in the narrow mountain passes. Kili now sat behind me, his good arm around my waist.

"When did you become so merciless?" he asked.

"What?"

"Why did you kill that…whatever it was?"

"That whatever it was," I said matter-of-factly, "was perched on your chest with a sharpened stone to your throat, and I wasn't supposed to do anything about it?" I snorted. "Forgive me for saving your life."

"Fili…" he trailed. "You haven't been yourself lately. Can't I help?"

"Also, that _thing_ may have killed the company, or led them to goblins. It had Bilbo's waistcoat buttons and Thorin's ring."

"And you didn't think to look for the others?"

"And go down into the mountains and get torn apart by goblins myself?" I sneered.

"What is _wrong_ with you?" Kili whined, pleading.

"I don't know. Might be this," I took the ring out of my pocket to show him.

"Fili…that's not Thorin's ring. Thorin's ring is made of mithril. This is gold." he said.

"So it is," I realized, trying it on for size. And, for the second time that day, regretted my actions.

Kili's fingers dug into my gut as he frantically pawed at me "Fili! he shrieked. "Fili! For the love of Aule, take that thing off!"

I yanked it off my finger and turned to face him, nearly toppling us both over the ledge.

"_What?_" I shouted in his face.

He was white with shock as he stared at me incredulously. "Mahal…" he gasped. "You turned_ invisible_."

* * *

**Yeah. That just happened. **

**And Fili may be going nuts. Poor Kili...he just wants his brother back.**

**Review to please the Creativity Beast! (which, by the way, is something like a Balrog. I'm not kidding. It scares me sometimes...)**

**:P**


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